


Obliquely Run

by marith



Category: Magical Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marith/pseuds/marith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophomore year does not go as anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything changed today.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribblemoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/gifts).



**Saturday, September 4.   Iris Academy,  Horse Hall.**  
  
Everything changed today.

I managed to wake up  and sneak out of the room a little before 5am.  Ellen was snoring a little, which helped cover any sounds; neither she nor Virginia appreciates being woken up at this hour.    No one does.

As outgoing treasurer, I should have only a few more weeks of getting up early before the new sophomore officers are elected.  However, the Professor hinted that it would be nice to work with someone as mature and responsible as myself again.   I do want him to approve of me, but ... do I want it enough to see the sun rise over Horse Hall every Saturday for the next year?  I was seriously doubting it this morning as I yawned my way across the quad to the mail room.

The door was already open,  which was unusual.  Good thing I was on time today.  "Good morning!" I said brightly to Iris Academy's official terror-of-undergraduates-in-residence, and bounced over to the mail bin.

He was standing there reading a letter intently,  hunched over a little into his robes and with the big floppy wizard hat pulled farther down than usual. I wondered if he was cold.    He didn't bother to look up or acknowledge me at all; I shrugged and got on with sorting.    Not too much mail this week, so near to the start of the term, mostly just the allowance that has to be delivered to every single student.  As freshman treasurer,  I have to come in the earliest and do all the prep work, besides the deliveries to students in my year.    Cash into envelopes, numbered  and noted in the ledger and then sorted by hall:  Horse, Snake, Butterfly, Falcon, Wolf,  Toad.   (I still wonder who picked those names.)

By the time everything was stacked up  and ready to go, I still hadn't heard the Professor make a sound.  I looked over at him again before hoisting the mailbag onto my shoulders.  He didn't seem to have turned any pages. He was just clutching the letter in both hands and staring down at it as though  focused beams of magic could shoot out of his eyes and vaporize the paper.  

I put down the mailbag.   "Is something wrong?" I heard myself say inanely.  No answer.  After a moment I said very tentatively, "...Hieronymous?"   Which marked the second time I'd ever used his first name; I technically had permission, but it just seemed so weird.

That got his attention.  For a second I thought his glare was going to vaporize _me_ ;  then he slapped the letter down on the counter and shoved it in my direction.   

"Read it.  And may your vaunted _maturity_ help you."   His tone was as venomous as though he'd caught me cheating.  For another moment he looked me over, top to toe, while I stood frozen to the spot.  Then he turned away with a snort of disgust and swept out of the room, leaving the door open.  A few seconds later it slammed itself shut so forcefully the wall shook.

What on earth?

Quickly I ran to the door and tried the handle. No, he hadn't locked me in.   Was he  angry at me, or at the letter? Or because he had to let me read the letter?

Curiously, I picked up the small stack of pages and looked at the topmost one.  Handwritten, closely spaced, with beautiful interlocking curlicues.  Wizards' handwriting.  (Not that wizards practice their penmanship, they just use blue magic to cheat.)  The letter was addressed not to Professor Grabiner but to Lord Such-and-Such Hieronymous Grabiner, followed by a long string of titles.  There was an official-looking seal pressed into the top; I traced around the ridges with a finger, and felt a faint tingle of magic.  

So this had something to do with his family. That explained why I was supposed to read it.  Better to get the delivery run out of the way first, though.   I folded up the letter and stuck it in an inside pocket of my robe.   The Professor had left the envelope lying on the floor, so I grabbed that too and then swung the bag over my shoulders.  I had forty-one dorm rooms to visit before finding out what was causing my husband's latest foul mood.

\---,---'--{@

I suppose I'd better explain about the husband thing.  Just in case someone reads this diary a hundred years from now and decides  to turn my memoirs into a romantic bestseller or an award-winning movie.  If that someone is you, please cast someone beautiful to play me, an actress with lots of cleavage and a nicely shaped nose.  Thank you for considering the wishes of your subject.  

Last year, on a Saturday much like this one, the mature and responsible freshman Treasurer opened the door of the mail room to find Professor Grabiner lying unconscious in a pentagram, with a big clawed blue demon attacking him.   She maturely and responsibly ran straight in to help.

Yes, this was stupid. I know better now.  But I hadn't _had_ any of those classes at the time!  The Professor, it turned out, was (mostly) protected because the demon was bound to serve his family.   I wasn't. The thing was about to eat me for real when Professor Potsdam arrived.   She saved me by doing the only thing that would make me off-limits for lunch - she told the demon I was about to become part of the Grabiner family.  And when he came to, Professor Grabiner agreed.

Only it wasn't just a story.  A wizard's word is binding, both of them told me, and to break it has terrible consequences.  And so within hours, Professer Grabiner and I were standing at the altar becoming the least happy couple ever. We were bound for a year and a day, which means until just before the end of January next year.

Everything was secret, of course,  but you can't keep a secret for too long at a small school like this one.   My social life fizzled out faster than my first spells.     Nobody dares harass me for fear of my terrible husband, but most people don't really want to hang out with me either.  Even my friends find it weird and uncomfortable.   And nothing stops the whispers and giggles,  the clever remarks about how I must earn my grades,  the really obscene limerick that's still making the rounds...I don't think the Professor knows about that, and I'm not going to tell him.   He'd put the whole school in detention and then everyone would really hate me.

It's awful.  The only good thing about the situation was that the Professor and I got to actually be friends, sort of.   He's much more interesting and nicer inside than he lets on to anyone.  And once he realized I wasn't going to gossip about him or try to get any favors,  he calmed down a lot. Until this morning.

Anyway. It seemed to take forever, but finally even the  third-floor turret room of Toad Hall had its envelopes delivered.    I sat down next to the statue of Mr. Toad in his car halfway down the front steps  (old senior project)  and patted his head for luck  before unfolding the letter.  Thick paper (parchment?) with slightly rough edges, the sort of fancy handmade paper people only use for wedding invitations  nowadays.  But this didn't look like an invitation.

 "Being agreed upon by the assembled Committee..."  My eyes were starting to glaze over before  the end of the very first sentence.  This was all legalese.  British wizard-type legalese.  I had approximately zero chance of understanding what it said.  Looking at each page in turn, I skimmed for phrases that would at least give me a clue.  

Third paragraph down, "consummate".  There was a lot more, four pages worth, and I don't remember a word of it except that  "heir carried to term" was in there somewhere.  The words didn't make any sense no matter how many times I read the third paragraph, and over the roaring noise in my ears a slightly hysterical inner voice kept saying over and over that nobody uses that word outside of romance novels, and maybe I was just misreading the English term for soup?

Stop it, I told myself sternly.   Crying won't help, and any minute now somebody will come by and stare.    I folded the letter back into its envelope and stood up.  This situation called for calm, sensible feminine advice from someone who I had never seen be shocked or at a loss.  The headmistress, Professor Potsdam, would know what to do.

\---,--'--{@

"Oh, dear.   I'm afraid we must take this very seriously," she said eventually.   Not the reaction I had been hoping for.

"But why does anyone _care?_ ",  I wailed.  "This is the twenty-first century!  It doesn't matter if anyone has an heir or not!"  Or only to the Professor's father, it occurred to me.  But if the one letter I'd seen from him was anything to go by, this wasn't his style.

"That's just it, dear,"  she replied.  The envelope and the pages of the letter were spread out across her desk.  Each one had been examined with Detect Charm and Inspection spells;  the only magic had turned out to be in the seal, which would notify the sender when the letter was first opened.    "No one does care.  The laws are still on the books, but never enforced, any more than laws about horse and buggy traffic would be.  The only reason for someone to bring a challenge like this nowadays against a nonpolitical marriage contract would be if they knew about your particular situation."

"If they know, then they know there's perfectly good reasons why...why not,"  I retorted. "Can't the Professor just explain to the committee?  Or stall them till the end of January? Isn't this what lawyers are for?"

"Yes, it is."  The headmistress reached out a hand in the direction of the bookshelf by the window, and a dictionary-sized tome slid itself off the bottom shelf and floated up to her grasp.  "Let me just look up..."  The pages riffled around and then stopped.  "One moment, my dear."

One moment became a minute, and then five minutes.   I glanced guiltily at the cup of coffee and pastry sitting on the edge of the desk.  She'd  had been eating breakfast when I barged in, and she wasn't going to get to finish it before her Saturday seminar.  But still... "Then what's the problem?" I blurted finally.  

She looked up at me a little sadly, as though I had flubbed an elementary lesson. "Stop and think about it from a different perspective for a moment.    Someone in the Rooks -"

"The Rooks?"

"The wizard parliament.  Someone brought this motion so that the validity of Hieronymous's  marriage will be debated in committee,  no doubt with embarrassing details.  Of course this infuriates him, and I've no doubt it serves to score some points against his father, but it truly harms neither of you.    A counter-motion will be filed,  everyone will enjoy the scandalous gossip for a season, and then the term of your marriage will be over."

My ears felt hot just thinking about it.   A whole room of important  wizards talking about me and my ignorant mistake.  And him saving me.  And what we were and weren't doing. ~~And his~~ And things about his past that I'm not going to write down even here because he'd kill me.  No, that's not it.  Because privacy matters so much to him.   

He must wish we'd never met. That a stupid wildseed girl from a nonmagical family had had the sense to stay nonmagical and not come to school and cause him trouble.   Not truly _harm_ us?

If Professor Potsdam noticed that I was now pissed off and trying to cry, she didn't show it.   "Think, dear.  Who stands to gain if your marriage is not dissolved but becomes legally questionable?"

Oh.  Of course.  "The demon.  Is it allowed to show up and...claim me, somehow?   But it only got into the school in the first place because it was summoned."  There are so many wards around school grounds that if you're sensitive to them the air hums all the time.  Zilla over in Snake Hall needs to wear magical earplugs  or she gets migraines.

"Yes indeed, though I hope you are wise enough to never fling that in your husband's face."  Her long pink-enameled nails drummed restlessly on the open book.  "What concerns me is that it knows that.  Manus are among the most intelligent and patient of demons, and they specialize in twisting the words of contracts.  This one has been bound into service for six generations of the Grabiner family.   It should not be able to conspire with their rivals. And yet, here this motion is. What does it hope to achieve?"

It occurred to me that even if the school was safe, I might not be able to leave ever again.  And it might find a loophole.  A six-generations-old demon wasn't likely to just get bored and give up anytime soon.  She was right, this was serious.  "So what should I do?"

"If there's anything you need to do off-campus, it would be best to take care of it today, and stay on the grounds from tomorrow until we can find a solution."  There was a sudden loud twittering and chirping, as though a flock of Disney songbirds was hiding underneath the desk.    "And now I have a seminar to get to.   I'm not the person you should be talking to most right now, dear, am I?"

"Sorry!"    I picked up the cup of coffee and concentrated on  a quick heat spell.  It worked this time and the cup didn't shatter, thank goodness.  I handed it to her. "Here's your coffee, and thank you, and I'll get out of your hair now."

She smiled at me.  "The two of you are very alike, you know.  You're hiding down here imagining him being angry,  and he's hiding up there, doubtless picturing you being sick with horror.  One of you should show a bit of spine, don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said glumly.

\---,--'{@

 

It's not that I don't like him that way.  He's old, but not old-man old, just grownup old.   And Virginia says I'm crazy, but I think he has a nice face really.  It's just that he's always scrunching it up to be  mean and sarcastic and looking down his nose at people.  If anyone else saw him in a good mood, I think they'd be surprised.

He kissed me once, on May Day, when I asked him to.   And I may have thought about that once or twice, over the summer, and imagined coming back to school someday as a grown-up sophisticated college student with her own car and an understated but very flattering dress and intellectual theories to discuss.    And enough money to take someone to the Glen.  I'd know what all the dishes on the menu were and how to order wine and actually enjoy drinking it.  That future person might be interested in another kiss.  And other things.

But the me of now?  Barely seventeen and with this in-name-only marriage as her entire romantic experience?  Not ready yet.   

But there I was standing outside the door to his rooms, trying to brace myself against whatever he might say.    The letter was not my fault, I reminded myself.  I didn't have to let him blame me for it. And this wasn't going to get any easier for waiting. I knocked.

After a long pause, I heard his voice. "Come in, then."  The _if you must_ was silent but perfectly audible.

I stepped in and turned to lock the door behind me, wishing I'd thought to bring tea so I'd have something to keep my hands busy.  The Professor was standing in a far corner of the room, next to a table with a crystal decanter and glasses.  His hat was off,   and his shaggy mane of smoke-colored hair was all messed up and falling in his face.  (Smoke-colored doesn't sound very nice,  how can I describe it?  Not regular gray, not black, but a soft dark gray with a tinge of blue. It reminds me of the smoke from a bonfire. )    He was staring at the glass in his hand. Suddenly he looked over at me in that way that makes you feel skewered and said sharply, "Well?"

The first words out of my mouth were not the ones I'd planned on.  "You can get drunk to help deal with this, and I'm not allowed to.   That's not fair."

I saw his mouth twitch a little, though he was trying to hold it still.  "Age has still a few privileges even in this modern day."   He put the glass down.  "You have read the message."

"Yes, sir. I mean, Yes. I did."

"Did you understand it?"

Quiz time. I took a deep breath and reminded myself to be concise.  "It's some kind of political attack using a stupid outdated law that gives that demon a way to claim our marriage is a fake, which might  mean it gets to kill me and you lose your magic for breaking your word."  

His expression didn't change.  "And?"

"And...so we need to find a way to stop it?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know!"  I glared right back at him.  "This is not my area of expertise, even if I had one which I don't because I'm just a sophomore! And you know that!"   I hadn't meant to yell, but my voice just kept getting louder.  "If you would like me to make an age-appropriate contribution I could burst into tears.  Would that help?"  

I stopped abruptly and squeezed my eyes shut, because suddenly I did feel like crying and it would be a terrible idea. Why does he have to make everything so hard?

I heard a sigh, right in front of me, and opened my eyes to find him standing close enough for a hug.  He didn't though, just patted the top of my head awkwardly.

"Don't do that," he said.  "You have already responded to a difficult situation better than might be expected. While I merely retreated, you sought information and allies, and now you have come to face me.  That could hardly have been easy."

"Okay," I said, managing to only sniffle a little.    He does always own up to being wrong, eventually.  

"No doubt Petunia was forthcoming with suggestions and advice on managing me," he said dryly.  "I suggest you abandon any such ideas at once.   This is not a romantic melodrama."

I had to smile at that, a little.   "No, she didn't really tell me anything. Just to grow a spine and go talk to you."

"Unjust."  He actually smiled back down at me, a little.  "Whatever shortcomings and mistakes you have demonstrated in your time here,  a lack of courage has not been one of them."  I would like to record that I met his eyes without blushing, but that would not be strictly true.  They're not exactly brown, I never noticed before today.  There's a little bit of red wine color to them.  He probably has some nonhuman ancestry, a lot of the magical families do.

His expression went back to serious.  "The law in question is not entirely antiquated.  Marriage is an important part of some magical rituals, as well as being used to seal alliances between families.  If the participants in the marriage do not take it seriously,  it can taint whatever magic was performed and be a grave insult to all concerned.  This would be legitimate grounds for a legal suit even today."

"What does taking it seriously mean?", I asked cautiously.  "I thought we were doing that."  Scrupulously.  No dating, of course.  I wasn't allowed to join the pancake supper last year because it had courting significance,   and in class and on all the school paperwork I'm addressed as  Mrs. Grabiner.   Which is not fun, in case you were wondering.  

"By modern definitions, we are.  However, according to the oldest customs, which are still used for a few rituals,  a marriage contract has not been completely observed until a child with the shared blood of all participants is born."

That didn't make sense. I frowned.  "Does that mean all marriages are invalid unless and until there's a kid?  That sounds just cruel.  And impractical.  And what does "all participants" mean?"

This time his smile was the usual evil one.  "Consider yourself fortunate that this particular contract only involves the two of us."

Eeep.  

"But to answer your question, no.  In most cases the...symbolic actions of the spouses, as well as their demonstrated respect for one another, are considered sufficient.  There is an entire branch of law devoted to this subject, which you need know nothing about."

_Eeeep._  

My insides felt like they were trying to rearrange themselves.  He'd said it, in a typically Grabiner way.  This really was about sex.  Symbolically?  Or not?  There was no way I could just ask  ARE WE GOING TO  but the question was so loud in my head it echoed.

Something must have shown on my face, because he stopped looking amused at my discomfort and patted my hair again.   "I am not without resources in the legal or sorcerous realms.  Neither is Petunia.  We  will both ensure that you are kept safe."  He paused. "In fact,  it may not be strictly necessary for you to be...aware of the situation any more than you are now.   That might be easiest for you."

Um, what?  "Are you suddenly telling me to run along and play?"  

"Run along and _study._   And I am giving you the option."  

I stared at him.  "Even if I understood what you're talking about,  I'm pretty sure the answer would still be no.  I want to know what's going on, even if it's bad.   Ignorance is not bliss, as you keep telling us in class.  So please keep explaining."

"...As you wish." He took another step closer to me, bending down so our faces were close enough to kiss - and just stayed there. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.  

"Of course this particular marriage contract has no purpose other than protecting your life.  Not even the most senile or malicious members of what passes for the present governing assemblage would consider invalidating it.  This is a feint, intended to make us jump - but in what direction?   Until we know more,  I  must regretfully consider the traditional alternatives available to unwilling participants in arranged marriages."

His lovely dark English voice had gone as coldly disinterested as it had been the day he suggested I forfeit my campaign for class treasurer and save him the bother.  His eyes were equally cold, and yet we  could feel each other's breath.   He was doing this just to unnerve me, damn him.   I raised my chin, bringing our faces even closer.  "Those being?" I asked in my Attentive Student voice.

It didn't work;  he didn't draw back at all.  "Option one,"  he breathed, "would be to make you pregnant as quickly as possible with the aid of magic, making our marriage unassailably valid by any possible definition.   The decision of what to do after the severance would then be yours."  

I tried to pull back, but he caught my chin and held me in place.  "Option two," he said to my mouth, "to put it bluntly,  is for me to fuck you on a reasonably frequent basis for the next several months, leaving a pregnancy up to chance.  Do you have a preference, Mrs. Grabiner?"

I wrenched my face away, and this time he let me.  Stop shaking, I told myself.  He wants you to shake and cry and obey.   So don't.   But I couldn't speak for a minute, and then my voice came out all wobbly:  "Just t-tell me what you're trying to scare me into doing.  What do you want me to do?"

" _Look at me._ "  I looked up from the floor, startled,  and then I was being shaken by the shoulders.   "There are sleep and memory spells created  specifically to make this situation slightly less unpleasant.   You will not be aware of anything that happens between us. "  His fingers dug in painfully, like talons.  "You may at your own discretion choose to forget this conversation, and later, the entire existence of our marriage.  Do you understand?"

"Stop shaking me!"  He stopped.  "You want...like Sleeping Beauty." Only more so.  A lot more so.

"Essentially correct, though you flatter yourself."

Oh that was low.   He was going to pay for that.  The rush of anger helped me stop shaking and  look him in the eyes again.  "No. I won't let you."

"Idiot girl!"   His grip hurt, a lot.   "Do you understand the position you are in?"

"I understand that neither of us wants me to be six months pregnant at the end of January.  I understand that you will _not_ cast any spells  to make me sleep or forget without my permission, which you do _not_ have.  Or you wouldn't be yelling at me."    I pulled at his hands, trying vainly to tug them off.  "Let go of me!"  

He did.  We stared at each other for a while. I think he wanted to slap me about as much as I wanted to slap him, probably.  "You can't bully me into changing my mind,"  I said finally.  "This is my body and I get to know what happens to it.   No matter how horrible you are."  

"Then go away, little girl," he said through his teeth,  "and consider your options.  Return after lights out. If I have to fetch you, you won't like it."  

I tried to think of a suitably  nasty parting shot, but  nothing came to mind.

"OUT!"

The door opened by itself, and I turned and ran through it.  Of  course it slammed behind me.

\---,---'---{@

I sat down in the hallway  and pulled my robes off each shoulder in turn, gingerly.  Bruises and even a little moon-shaped welt.  I rubbed my finger over each one, cast a spell,  and watched as they shimmered and faded.

Well, that was scary.  But not, strangely,  as much as the first time.  When the news of our marriage had first leaked out,  the Professor assumed I was responsible.  He'd  thought I was gossiping about him, defying his authority,  knowing that he couldn't divorce or expel me for my own safety.

_That_ day had been terrifying.  He'd threatened to lock me in the deepest dungeon of the school forever and erase everyone's memories so that no one would ever know I was gone.   Later, while apologizing, he'd told me he thought fear was the only way to control me.    It certainly would have worked back then, but it didn't work today.  Maybe because he did apologize so honestly last year,  laid out the mechanism of his trick like a stage magician  for me to see, making me immune to the illusion in future.

Not that that makes it okay for him to hurt and scare me.  Not that I'll ever do what he wants because of that.  I meant what I said, I won't be a Sleeping Beauty - but even if  I did want to,  _now_ I'd rather walk on broken glass and have my way like the Little Mermaid.

Shopping.  I needed to go shopping.  And not just because  it might be my last trip to the mall until Thanksgiving break.  Flatter myself, oh _really_.

 --'--,--{@

And now it's ten-forty-eight pm and I've been writing this entry forever and rewriting bits and doodling in the margins, because I just can't study like this.  Lights out is in twelve minutes.   The clock is agonizingly slow and too fast at the same time.

My beautiful new frilly white nightgown is packed up with my toothbrush and lingerie and tomorrow's clothes and anything else I could think of.  After dinner I took the most thorough shower of my entire life and blow-dried my hair and brushed it five hundred times and cut my nails.  

Ellen looks worried.  Virginia looks impatient. Both of them keep looking at the bag at the foot of my bed and then at me, but not saying anything.  They're waiting for me to tell them what's going on, and they're not going to like it.

I don't feel very courageous.  Well, maybe Ellen will let me use her sparkly nail polish for luck.  
...


	2. I was right, they didn't like it.

**Sunday, September 5**

I was right, they didn't like it.   When I put down my pen last night and stood up, Virginia instantly grabbed my bag off the floor and held it behind her back.   "So talk," she said.  "Are you planning on sneaking into his bed to seduce him? Because I'm pretty sure Grabby sleeps with warding spells."

...Okay, I guess the basic facts were pretty obvious.    "No!  And I wasn't going to try to leave without telling you, so you can put my stuff down."

"So this is his idea?" asked Ellen.    "That doesn't seem very...ethical. I don't like Professor Grabiner very much, but I didn't think he would -"  She stopped and waved her hands around.  "You know. "

"He wouldn't,"  I assured her.  Oh trust me on that one. 

Virginia reached into the bag and pulled out my new nightgown. "Then if he wouldn't and you wouldn't, where are you going with - " She paused and shook out the folds, spreading it out against herself.  "Wow."

"It's beautiful, " said Ellen.  "Like something a girl in a pre-Raphaelite painting would wear."  I wasn't  sure what she was talking about, as usual,  but it sounded positive.

"This isn't all for someone else, is it?"  asked Virginia.  "Because you can't do that."

"No! Put that back and let me explain, I only have a few minutes.  Ellen, can I borrow some of your nail polish?"

She folded her arms and looked at me dubiously.  "What if I don't like your explanation?"

"Then I guess the two of you keep me prisoner here until the Professor comes looking for me, and you can talk to him. "  I kept my voice calm and reasonable,  though I could hear _If I have to fetch you you won't like it_ in the back of my head.  "Please, Ellen?"

She passed me the little bottle of Magical Girl Sparkle.  I started brushing it on, not looking at their faces.  "They found out - him and Professor Potsdam both - that the marriage might not be valid otherwise.  And it's the only thing protecting me from that demon.   So..."   They  didn't need to know about the parliament part.  Or this afternoon.  

"So you don't want to but you have to?  That's awful!"  said Ellen.  

"Ewww,"  Virginia agreed.  "Can't you magically sleep through it?"

I started in on my toenails.  "That was his idea, but I said no.  It would be worse to just be like some kind of inflatable doll."   

Ellen shivered. "I'm sorry. I think I'd rather face the demon."

"You've seen it, I bet. He used  an illusion of it for one of the exams last year, the big blue djinn-thing with claws."  I put the cap back on the nail polish and handed it back to Ellen.  "Thanks.  Well... I'd better get going."

I held out my hand for the bag.  Virginia started to give it back, then suddenly threw her arms around me and hugged me tight.  "Sorry for giving you a hard time."  

I tried to smile. "It's okay. Thank you both for worrying about me. "

"Good luck," said Ellen in a small voice.

\---,--'----{@

Walking  through the dark halls felt very strange.   There's usually someone around, coming back from the bathroom or having a whispered conversation away from their roommates or measuring astral vibrations of the moonlight.  (Well, that's what they said, anyway.)  But tonight I didn't see a soul.  It was as though I was the only person left in Iris Academy.  

Virginia and Ellen's somber faces kept floating into my mind.  I was grateful that they cared,  and that if I'd been doing something dumb they would have stopped me.  But I kind of wished they had been just a little bit excited for me, instead of just worried.  It would have made this feel less like walking to the guillotine.

As I raised my hand to knock on the Professor's door, it unlocked with a soft click and opened. He wasn't on the other side, though.  The sitting room was dark, but I could see light coming from the open door to the inner room I'd never been in.   I tiptoed over, feeling kind of silly about it but not wanting to make any noise, and peeked around the doorframe.

Big old-fashioned four-poster bed with a canopy.   A desk just like the one in the sitting room, with the Professor sitting at it, scribbling in a ledger. I stood uncertainly in the doorway.

After a few moments he said without bothering to look up,  "I still have a great deal of work to complete this evening.   The facilities should have everything you may require, I hope."   He pointed at a door on the far side of the room, and then turned back to his papers as though I were, well, a student who had interrupted him with something trivial.

Oookay.  I went back and took my shoes off at the sitting room door, then trod quietly across the carpet, careful not to touch anything.

Putting the locked bathroom door between us helped.  So did making faces in the mirror.   I was not some kind of grubby servant who had to be let in to do her job but had better mind her manners.  I was his wife, and I had  a right to be here.  Sort of.  I could take a bubble bath in the big claw-footed tub, if he was going to keep me waiting. I could read the stack of books on the little shelf by the toilet.  If I wanted to read about "Theurgic emanations detected in early Bolshevik architecture."

Instead I pulled on the nightgown over my clothes and then took them off underneath, so as to never be actually undressed.   I packed all my stuff up back into the bag so it couldn't possibly be in anyone's way.  Then I opened the door and ran straight to the bed, pulled down the covers and wriggled underneath them.  

The sheets were freshly washed and very soft and smelled faintly of some herb I didn't recognize. Of course, I thought.  Nothing but perfect  courtesy for Mrs. Grabiner.  

Time passed. I lay there and tried to cry as quietly as possible.  At some point the light went out, and then I felt him sit down on the far edge of the bed.

"I wish you'd seen fit to spare us both this,"  he said.  He didn't sound angry this time, just tired. "Have you ever considered that a lack of courage has its benefits?"

I pulled my head out from under the pillow and stared at the darkness where I knew he was.   It took a moment to find my voice.  "Okay, I'm sorry.   Sorry you have to _demean_ yourself.  Sorry that I can't be someone you'd...someone _worthy_ of doing this with!"   If I hadn't been crying so hard, it would have come out really dignified and scathing.  I  needed a kleenex,  but I couldn't mess up his sheets or my nightgown...but then what did it matter?  He  wasn't going to appreciate it.  Or me.   Was my defiance actually doing  anything but making both of us miserable?

I wiped my nose on my sleeve,  took a deep breath, and said, "FINE.  Do the sleep thing."  Damned if I was going to lie on my back and be all composed like Sleeping Beauty for him, though. I pressed my face into the pillow, curled my hands into fists, and waited.

Nothing happened for a long minute.  

"You are crying because of my reluctance. "  His tone was the same deadpan he used in class to say things like "And you felt that magically inserting pencils into your partner's nose was an appropriate way to complete the exercise."

Oh, for -   I sat up and threw my pillow at him.  "You're not the only person on earth with pride.  How would you like to do this with someone who hated it?  It's humiliating."  

There was another long pause. The tears were stopping, but now I _really_ needed kleenex.  

"Precisely so," he said finally.  "I assumed those were _your_ feelings.  Natural and inevitable ones, given the difference in our ages."

Anything I might have said about May Day turned into an embarrassing wet sneeze.  Without a word, he got up and brought me a box of tissues, and a wastepaper basket, and waited till I was done.

"Have you ever -" I paused to honk ungracefully, for the third time "-considered that asking a person what they think instead of assuming has some benefits?"  

Silence.  My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but I still couldn't make out his expression, just that he was sitting there looking at me.

 "And what do you think?"  he asked finally.

 "I don't think  you're horrible," I said.   "Even though you act that way sometimes.  I'm not ready for this yet, but I don't want someone else to be here with me instead of you."     What else?  I sat there and thought, and blew my nose some more, and he just waited.  I had the feeling he would sit there until sunrise if that's how long I needed to think.  "I think...I think this is kind of like one of the dungeon exams.  A really scary one."

"But you're not really the monster. Or the trap or the obstacle. And I'm not either.  Can't we just .... be two students trying to get through the dungeon together? I mean, two people, you're not a student, but you know what I mean."

He reached out and tugged me over to him, and then his long bony arms were folded around me in a proper hug, and all at once the tight feeling in my chest relaxed and I could breathe.  "Yes," I felt him say into my hair. "Yes, we can."

I put my arms around him and we just sat there for a while.  He'd put on a nightshirt or pajamas or something, soft against my cheek, and I could faintly smell his scent, which sounds gross but it wasn't at all, at all.  After a while his hands lifted my face up for a kiss, and we kissed and kissed and then he taught me how to French kiss without a word spoken.   I could have kept on kissing  for hours, I thought I was going to melt.  

Somehow without me quite knowing how it happened we ended up snuggled under the covers.  "I do have to ask," he said, starting to undo all the buttons and hooks at my neckline,  "what you actually meant to convey by wearing the traditional garb of maiden sacrifice, if not resentment."

Oh.  "I just thought it was pretty," I mumbled.  "What was I supposed to wear, a hot pink- oh,"  and that sentence never got finished because his hands had found their way inside to my breasts.  Which felt wonderful.  And then _maddening_.

"Are you trying to tell me something by means of those charming little noises?  If the events of today have taught either of us anything, surely it would be the value of clear communication."

"You're a  _tease_ ," I said indignantly.   "After all that, you - gah! - turn out to be a tease.   I should have guessed."    
 ~~  
After that~~ I can't write down most of after that. There were a lot of thoughts like _oh god is he going to_ followed by o _h god am I going to like it?_    And I absolutely cannot write down what he made me say "with proper Latin appellation, if you please".   Also, !!!!!!!!!!!!!

"But that doesn't count, does it?"  I mumbled sleepily afterwards.   He just laughed a little into my ear  and tucked  my nightgown back into place.   "There has been entirely enough excitement for one day. Go  to sleep now."   So I did, warm and held tight and completely contented.

\----'---,------{@

When I woke up alone, with the noontime sun in my eyes, there was a note on the desk.  "In future you are still expected to be on time for classes.  You may wish to bring your own alarm clock tomorrow night. "   

 It's a good thing I wasn't expecting romance.  But I guess it was nice of him to let me sleep in.

In the end I didn't quite have the nerve to use his shower, so I had to sneak back down to the dorm bathroom.  Luckily the only person I met  on the way was Virginia.  She looked at me, sighed, and rolled her eyes,  but she was smiling.  I guess I must have been grinning pretty foolishly.

It's almost dinnertime now and I haven't gotten anything done but write this,  so I'd better study before, eep, tonight, tonight, tonight.


	3. Twenty Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe thirty.

**Monday, September 6**  
  
The dining hall was buzzing with more conversation than usual last night.    Nobody turned to stare as I walked in, though, and I thought a silent prayer of thanks to whoever today's unfortunate gossip target was.    I didn't try to listen - very pro-myob these days, that's  me -  but still heard "Sofia" and "not coming back"  two or three times before getting my food to the corner table where Ellen was sitting by herself.  
  
"Are you all right?"  Ellen leaned over and put her hands on mine as soon as I put the tray down.  "We were so worried about you last night, and then you didn't come to sports club today..."  She did look as though she hadn't slept very well.  
  
I squeezed her hands.  "It's all right. Truly it is.  I'm sorry to have made you worry, I was worried myself, but - it's going to work out, I think. At least that part of things."     
  
"That part?  There's _more_?"  
  
"Well, it's complicated.  And, um, you probably don't want to hear some of the details anyway."  
  
"No," she agreed fervently.  "Well... if you're all right with it,  I guess you know what you're doing. Just ask us for help if you need it."  
  
I did want to talk to someone about all of this, but  was getting the distinct impression Ellen was happier not knowing.   Virginia would want to charge into a parliament meeting and start punching wizards in the face until the problem was resolved (not that that didn't sound appealing right now).  And there really wasn't anyone else my age I could trust.  I shouldn't overburden the friends I did still have.  
  
 "No meatloaf for you?" I pointed at her plate to change the subject.  
  
"I'm thinking of becoming a vegetarian anyway."  
  
"Suit yourself."  I took a bite.  Not bad, if a little bland.   Some of the students helped out with cooking to help pay their tuition.  The result was at least better than the mushy peas and mystery meat at my old school, but you had to be prepared for the occasional Experiment. Let's just say there's a reason why four pages of the yearbook were devoted to artistic works on the theme of "Pumpkin Curry Nightmare".  
  
"I'm worried about Sofia, too."  Ellen was pushing her vegetables around  with her fork.  
  
"What did happen?"  Does it still count as gossip if you're not the one to bring it up? Too late.  "I don't remember seeing her this term yet, actually."  
  
"They expelled her.  For displaying magic outside of school."  
  
"Oh my god, why?   She always seemed sensible,  I didn't know her very well, but...why would anyone do that?"  She must have known what would happen.   They'd made the rules very, very clear to us wildseed.  
  
"I don't know.  She was going to help me with my thesis and now she's gone and I can't even write to her.  She won't remember who I am or anything."    
  
We both sat and stared at our food for a while. "Do you think she was being bullied or something, at home?"  I asked eventually.  Would I fight back using magic, knowing what would happen? I don't think so...but anyone can do wrong things when they're desperate.  
  
"Do you think...you could find out?  Ask the Professor, I mean?"    
  
I thought about it.  "Maybe.   Not right away, though, probably,  I'd have to catch him in a good mood."  
  
"Actually...there was something else I wanted to ask if you could find out.  And if you could do me a favor."  
  
Uh-oh.  "I can't get special favors and information out of him, you know he's not that kind of person. It doesn't work like that."   He would be so witheringly disappointed that I would die on the spot.  
  
Ellen waved her hands about. "Not anything big or wrong!  Just...you know what I've been working on. "  
  
"Didn't he already agree to be your advisor?"   Ellen wants to study  magic scientifically, but the teachers completely freaked out at the idea.  So she's calling it "Magical Philosophy".  
  
"Yes, but there are so many things I can't ask him.  I'm doing experiments like Archimedes and that's okay,  it's important to start with first principles.   But not knowing why magic and technology don't mix is driving me crazy.  Everything I'm doing could be completely invalid and I wouldn't know because they won't explain!"  
  
All technology on campus is stuck in the 70s or older - we have rotary phones, they must be the last ones in the country - and nothing modern can be brought in. No phones, TV, media  players, video games, cameras, anything.   The music for the May Day ball has to be retro because all we have is a turntable.    I guess we're lucky it's not a gramophone.  
  
"It is weird that they won't explain," I agreed.  "But it doesn't make your experiments invalid, does it?  I mean...Newton didn't know about relativity or any modern physics, but that didn't stop him from discovering gravity with the apple."  
  
"That's a myth."  She sighed.  "But you're right.  But still."   She reached out and took my hand again. "Will you help me next Saturday?   It takes two people to do the measurements, and Sofia's gone, and Professor Grabiner just says he _is not a lab assistant, Miss Middleton._ "   She wrinkled up her nose and looked at me severely, just like him. I snickered.  
  
I couldn't turn her down, even if there are more fun things to do with a Saturday than taking scientific measurements. Like watching paint dry.  "All right, but in return, promise me you won't break the rules again, even if they're stupid.  Even if you're sure you won't get caught.  I don't want you to disappear too."  
  
Her face lit up. Ellen's really pretty when she smiles, though she doesn't believe it. "Thank you! Donald tries but he really isn't interested, I can tell, and Virginia's just hopeless."  
  
"Speaking of which... you haven't told me everything about your summer.  Staying at his house.  Soo?"  I waved my fork at her.    
  
She turned pink and was about to launch into  her usual no-really-it-wasn't-like-that denials when I heard someone say "Um,  sorry, excuse me!" behind me.  
  
Minnie Cochran, current and probably forever class president,  smiled nervously and handed me an envelope.  "Professor Grabiner asked me to give this to you."  
  
"Thanks."  I smiled back at her, trying to make it genuine. "How've you been?"  
  
"Fine."  She looked down at the envelope in my hand. "I didn't open it. In case you were wondering."  
  
"I wasn't," I lied.  
  
"Okay I'll see you later don't forget I'm still doing study sessions, hi Ellen nice to see you,  bye!"   She edged her way back out between the tables.  
  
"Are you ever going to forgive her?"  asked Ellen.    
  
I sighed. "I'm not mad at her, really.  People do dumb things when they're desperate.  It's just... hard to trust, you know?"  
  
"She really might not have done it on purpose."  
  
"Sure. It was just really, really convenient to accidentally mention my wedding  right when she wanted the whole school to stop talking about _her_ scandal."  
  
"Mmm,"  said Ellen, and ate her asparagus.  
  
\---,---'---{@  
  
The envelope held a room key and a small map drawn with spidery lines of black ink.  No words, but I recognized the u-shape of a corridor in the teachers' wing.  There was a tiny black dot at the far end.  
  
"Looks like you're getting your own room," said Virginia.  We were back in our room again by this time, just before lights out.  
  
"Looks that way."   I held the key in my hand and cast a detect charm spell, just in case.  Nothing.    
  
"How long do you have to keep-?"  Ellen was the only one of us getting any studying done.   (I'm fairly sure she could study during an earthquake.)  But every now and then I caught her staring at me with a puzzled frown.  She looked away every time I noticed, and I didn't want to make a big deal of it.    
  
"Oh, "have to" is not how it is,  trust me.  You didn't see her expression this afternoon."  Virginia had been giving me funny looks too.  
  
I waited till my hand was on the doorknob before answering, in case this didn't go well.  "Virginia, would you think better of me if I came back crying and miserable?"  
  
She actually thought about it seriously, twining one of her frizzy curls around her finger.  Then she lifted her chin and looked me in the eye as though facing a duel challenge.  "Yes, actually.  A little."    
  
Ouch. "Why?"  
  
"Because he's old and icky and evil and it's gross, that's why!  I don't understand how you can like him."   Virginia shrugged.  "But you know, I'd also think it was kinda gross and weird if you liked sleeping  with Balthasar Mulch-Boy. Or Pastel.  Or just about anyone, really.     I don't get the sex thing."    
  
I bit back the urge to point out that her little brother was dating  Ellen, who was sitting _right here_ listening, and what did she think had been going on in her house this summer?    "Thank you for your honesty,"  I just said, distantly, and opened the door.  
  
"Wait! That didn't really come out right."  She had the grace to look embarrassed, at least.  "What I mean is...it's me, not you.  You do what's right for you.  And we're still friends, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
\----,---'--{@  
  
The halls were just as deserted this time, which was good because I really didn't want to meet anybody.  
  
I never noticed it before, you know how there are lots of insulting words for girls who have sex?   I can't think of any words like that for guys.  Well, I guess there are insults for old guys who pick up on young girls.  When they bring that motion up in parliament, some people are going to be calling the Professor those names.   And they'll call me the other ones.    
  
Right now everybody at school thinks the idea of  us having sex is a funny joke.  If they ever find out it's true,  the jokes will get a lot meaner.   Most people aren't as upfront and honest about their feelings as Virginia, either.   What would I have called a student and professor couple, back at my old highschool?    
  
The door that matched the dot on the map looked just like all the others in the corridor, completely anonymous.  I knocked and waited for a few minutes, but nothing happened, so I used the key.    
  
An empty bedroom, with nice but boring furniture and a bathroom attached.   Was I supposed to stay here?   I looked around, noting the new crisp sheets on the bed and fluffy towels in ... the bathroom.   Oh.  He must have noticed that I hadn't dared use his shower, and so he was giving me a space of my own.  What a _him_ sort of gesture.  
  
Should I change here? And then  sneak across to his rooms in my nightgown, uh, no.   I locked up my new guest room carefully and put the key in my pocket.    
  
\---,---'--{@  
  
Just like before, his door unlocked and opened as I approached.  I took off my shoes inside and tiptoed straight through into the bathroom, pausing to say "thank you"   as I went past his desk.  He didn't look up, but I know he heard me.  
  
The bathroom didn't have a full-length mirror, but I could see most of me if I backed up against the door.  I took all my clothes off and looked at myself, remembering how I'd been too scared to undress the night before.  My heart was starting to beat faster.    Even though so much had happened then,  not much had actually _happened_.  All the things I'd been trying to avoid thinking about all day were still waiting to be faced, in the bed on the other side of the door.  
  
Was I going to be able to do this?  Would it hurt?  Would I be any good at it? Would he like it? Would I?  If I did, what did that make me?  And oh yes, a few key practical questions that really ought to get answered first.  We could start with those. I felt a little better with a plan in hand.  
  
 ~~The Professor~~   ~~Hieronymous~~   My husband (why is that easier to use than his name??)  put down his pen and looked up as I emerged from the bathroom.   We eyed each other warily for a moment.    
  
"I have questions," I said.  
  
"My surprise knows no bounds."  He gave me his little evil smile, but there was no malice in it.  "Are these questions you would rather ask in the other room and fully clothed?"  
  
"No, we may settle ourselves," I said airily, and flopped on the bed.  "You can leave the light on, I promise not to peek."  I closed my eyes and gave what I hoped was a little regal wave in his direction.  
  
The sound of his dry chuckle, followed by the bathroom door closing, was my reward.   Even if I'm ignorant and full of flaws,  I'm someone who can make him laugh.  That's not a small thing.  
  
By the time we were both under the covers and I'd remembered to get back up and set the alarm clock, it was almost midnight.   We lay facing each other across an empty stretch of bed.  "I don't suppose there's a green spell you could cast to make us less tired?" I asked, yawning.    
  
"There is.  Typically one discovers it during the first round of postgraduate exams,  sincerely vows to use it responsibly and only in moderation,  and finds oneself in the infirmary two months later having collapsed from exhaustion.   After that one swears it off altogether and learns to drink coffee."     I giggled.  
  
"Rats.  Okay, first question."  I took a deep breath.   "What  happens to me if I do get pregnant?"  
  
The amusement in his eyes faded.  "Earlier today Petunia and I discussed this at some length.   We agreed that it would be inappropriate for you to remain here.  Even if you were granted medical leave and allowed to audit classes, the other students and faculty would resent the exception to the rules.  You would likely find yourself in an intolerable position."  
  
He was right and I knew it, but it still hurt.  This magical place that welcomed me in last year, full of friends and fun and things to learn,  is  the same as any other community.   People don't want you around if you're too different. I don't want to be different, but I don't have a choice, ever since I ran into that pentagram.  
  
"We have arranged a place for you to stay, in the event,  where you will be securely warded and cared for."  He paused.  "If a child is born - a choice that is entirely yours to make -  I will take full responsibility for its care.  You know, I think, that it would want for nothing, and be more than welcomed by my father. You would be free to return here and resume your normal life."  
  
This part I'd been expecting, pretty much, and I'd been thinking about how to word my answer.  _I wouldn't bring up a pet dog the way Professor Potsdam told me you were raised_ would not go over well.   "I do know that," I said carefully.  "And I'd be very grateful.  But even though I'm not ready to be a parent, if I did become one I would want to stay with my child."  
  
He frowned at me.  "You will not abandon your education because of this...misadventure.  Nor should you force yourself into an unwanted role out of a sense of duty." One of his hands reached out to brush my cheek, gently, then retreated.  "There is no surer path to a bitter life.  Nor would the child thank you, in the end."  
   
I wondered if he was thinking of his own mother.  It would probably never be okay to ask.   "There must be things like private tutors for magic, and daycare or nannies or whatever English noble families do,"  I said.   "It's not the life I would choose.  I don't want the first option you gave me yesterday.  But if things worked out that way in the end...I think I could be happy.  Let's just hope it doesn't turn out to be necessary."  
   
His mouth twisted a little.  "On that point we are in fervent agreement, at least.   Ah...naturally neither magical nor mundane preventatives are feasible,  given that the object of this farce is to pretend to be trying to conceive an heir.  But presumably you know your own body and its rhythms...some sort of scheduling?"  
   
I think that was the most hesitant I'd ever heard him sound.  It's a little odd that there's something important I know more about than he does.  "Um, theoretically. But in health ed class at my old school they said there was a special medical term for couples who used the rhythm method for birth control."  
   
He raised an eyebrow at me.  
   
"Parents."  
   
"Ah."  
   
"Okay, second question," I started to say, only to be stopped by a finger on my lips.    
   
"An answer for an answer.  Did I injure you yesterday?"  
   
If I said no he would know I was lying, "Only a little.  It's all right, honestly.  You were angry and scared and so  was I.  Just - don't do it again, okay?"  
   
Instead of reassuring him, this seemed to have the opposite effect.  He actually sat up and glared at me.  "Every time I begin to think of you as an unusually intelligent young woman, you display some spectacular new evidence of imbecility."  
   
"Hey!" I sat up too, tucking the blankets up around me protectively. "I'm trying to be mature and understanding here.   Why are you insulting me?"  
   
"Because," he said tightly, "it is anything but "all right".  Twice now I have physically assaulted and terrorized you,  above and beyond the verbal abuse all my students have become accustomed to -"  
   
The sudden change from calm discussion to anger was unnerving, though you'd think I'd be starting to get used to it by now.  "That's a little harsh. You didn't actually assault me -"  
   
"You were not bruised?"  
   
"Well -"  
   
"The distinct memory I have of holding you up against a wall and choking you last year is incorrect?"  
   
"Well -"  
   
"You have a most _remarkable_ definition of assault."  
   
"You wouldn't really have -"  
   
"You have told no one, clearly.  Otherwise Miss Middleton or Miss Danson would have broken down my door yesterday, and even your uniquely tolerant headmistress would have cautioned me.  Instead, twice now you have come to my bed and offered yourself to me with complete trust.  Have you no regard for your own safety?"  
   
I winced. Put that way, it did sound stupid.  Was I like one of those women in news stories who stays with an abusive boyfriend until she ends up in the hospital?  In addition to the other thing?  I'd been trying to act like like his equal,  and only proven that I wasn't.  No wonder he was mad at me.  "What should I do?", I whispered.  
  
He sighed, and brushed back  my hair again, leaving his hand this time to trail along my cheek.  "You defended yourself adequately yesterday.  It is your lack of follow-through that concerns me.  I will not insult you with apologies or promises  that you have no reason to trust;  but if _anyone_ attempts to harm you again, _please_ tell someone.  And a second someone, if necessary, until the matter is taken seriously. "  
  
He looked so bleak that I wanted to hug him.  He knows exactly what it's like to feel like a bad person, I realized suddenly.  We both felt the same way for different reasons. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.    "I will.  Can I, can I ask you something really...can you be honest with me?"  
  
He  nodded.  
  
"Am I - do you think less of me for choosing this? For offering myself to you, like you said.  Am I a -"  I couldn't say the word.  "Bad?" I finished lamely.  
  
His thumb brushed across my mouth.  "I don't understand," he said quietly.  
  
"Maybe, I get the feeling, a good girl wouldn't do that.  Would have hated all of last night.  Would rather be asleep and forget everything.   Is that part of why you wanted to make me choose that way?   I still don't want to, but maybe it'd be better than having you not respect me.  That would be the worst, for you to think of me as...you know."  
  
I was lying. I didn't tell him the worst part.  The really, really worst part is the part of me that doesn't think it would be worst.  There's a part of me that imagines his voice saying _willing little slut_ and just squirms and wriggles inside.  That wonders what would have happened if I'd said _I dare you_ instead of pulling my face away yesterday afternoon.  God, I'm really messed up, aren't I?    
  
Suddenly he was right there instead of on the other side of the bed,  kissing my eyelids and cheeks and nose and mouth and saying, "no, no," softly,  and I felt myself starting to cry.  He kissed the tears away and slid his arms around me, cradling me close.  
  
"There is nothing wrong with having feelings, despite the ugly judgements the world can make," he whispered.   "I was cruel to you yesterday because the thought of you miserably enduring my touch was too wretched to contemplate.  You-"  kiss  "Are  lovely- " kiss  "-yes, I was lying yesterday-"  kiss "-and courageous-" kiss "-and honorable."  Kiss.   "You _honor_ me with your desire, more than words can express."  His eyes were warm and dark and completely serious.  "May I teach you?"  
  
"Yes," I whispered back.  
  
 --------,------'----{@  
  
Some things I know that I didn't know yesterday:  
  
   -,--}@   Sex scenes in  romance novels and movies and  tv shows  leave some very important, very awkward things out.    
  
   -,--}@   Parts of it aren't actually all that much fun.   Not very comfortable. Okay, to be honest, it hurt.  There was a certain amount of enduring that I tried not to let him notice.   Hopefully it gets easier with practice.  
  
   -,---}@ Other parts are really, really, really, really,  *really* okay.    
  
   -,---}@  Doing this on school nights is a bad idea. We were both really tired and I didn't take in a word of sociomagical history class today.  
  
   -,---}@ He snores.  
  
   -,---}@ I don't even mind.

 


End file.
